


No Need to Worry

by orionstarlight



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Fingerfucking, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, there's plot if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orionstarlight/pseuds/orionstarlight
Summary: “Don’t be. You’re a pretty woman, Eve. What’s your preference?” asks Villanelle nonchalantly. The question doesn’t quite register in her mind, and she struggles to find the words to answer her.“My... what?”The blonde leans in so that no one else can hear what she’s about to whisper. “I’m asking if you’re going to let me fuck you, Eve.”-----In which Eve meets Villanelle in a bar the night before her next case and figures that it might be her last chance to have some fun.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 6
Kudos: 142





	No Need to Worry

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm fairly new to the Killing Eve fandom, but this is my small contribution to it. Hope you enjoy!

With the buzz of alcohol in her veins, the lights seem dimmer than they actually are. Her nails tap on the oak bar, nerves translating into a steady rhythm. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous; it’s not like she even has the courage to talk to someone. She’s not even sure what she’s drinking anymore. It’s a concoction she doesn’t recognise by look or by taste, but she doesn’t care. Not even if it’s poison.

“You should slow down or you’ll be slurring your words to your cab driver when he asks you for your address,” says a blonde, sitting down next to her, wearing a man’s suit that somehow fits her body perfectly.

“That’s how I’ll know I’m drunk. I’m not looking to stay sober,” scoffs Eve.

“Being drunk is overrated, and I’m Russian. But if you’re going to drink, why do it alone?”

Eve looks at the other woman. “Don’t have anyone to drink with. But you’re more than welcome to join me.”

“I’d rather talk.”

“About?”

“You.”

Eve finishes what little of her drink she has left. “There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid. Nothing quite so interesting about me. Just a girl raised in America now living in England.”

“Disagree.” Her fingers drift onto Eve’s. “You must have a story that gives you depth, makes you more than a one-dimensional character.”

“I’ve watched most of my friends die.”

Neither of them is expecting that to be what comes out of the brunette’s mouth, but it does. Eve is young still, but her profession does not care about the number of years you’ve been alive. It cares about whether or not you are capable of survival even when your chances seem nought.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not our fault we’re mortal.”

The blonde chuckles. “I’d quite like to be a God. To see my name in history books as mighty, not just human. Villanelle, God of… well, something.”

 _Villanelle_. So that’s her name. It suits her, to be called something so out of place, something that doesn’t fit in anywhere. Eve has never heard anything like it, and she can’t help staring at the woman, the way her features draw her in with a single look, something incredibly rare hiding behind her eyes.

“Do you usually stare so lustfully at strangers?”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re a pretty woman, Eve. What’s your preference?” asks Villanelle nonchalantly. The question doesn’t quite register in her mind, and she struggles to find the words to answer her.

“My... what?”

The blonde leans in so that no one else can hear what she’s about to whisper. “I’m asking if you’re going to let me fuck you, Eve.”

She looks deep into her green-brown eyes. This could be her one chance she gets to do what she wants with who she wants before the new case. She doesn’t feel ashamed of entertaining the idea of spending the night with this stranger. In fact, it sparks a fire in her, one she hasn’t felt in a long time.

“My house isn’t that far,” Eve finds herself saying.

“My hotel is across the road,” counters Villanelle. Eve hesitates, fingers tracing the rim of the glass. Is this what she wants? “Room 144, second floor. If you decide to take the plunge, I’ll be waiting for you with a bottle of champagne.”

She touches her shoulder briefly, before walking away as if their bodies had never touched at all. The concept is maddening to her, infuriating. How is she feeling so many things at once whereas Villanelle barely seems to be feeling anything at all? How does she manage it? Are there two parts of her, two different yet striking personalities fighting to be let out?

She has to know.

Eve doesn’t have another drink for courage. If anything, she wants to remember this night for all the mysteries and secrets it holds. She pays the bartender what she owes and stands on shaky feet. She doesn’t normally wear heels and had she known she was going to get this drunk, she would have changed her outfit before leaving. They have, however, seemingly made her bolder.

The hotel is grand, built for the elite and kids with trust funds, and she slowly understands more about Villanelle. This is not a woman who settles, but a woman who cross-checks every detail to ensure everything about her choice is perfect, and that just makes her heart beat a little bit faster as she steps out of the lift, the panelling beneath her feet white and impeccably cleaned. Not a single mark.

Her hand stops inches in front of the door, her knuckles ready to knock, to disturb her. She’s too slow, and Room 144 opens for her. 

“I figured you wouldn’t be able to open it yourself.”

“After tonight-”

“Don’t worry about that,” says Villanelle softly, taking Eve’s hand and leading her inside. “It doesn’t matter.”

Their lips stay mere inches away, hands on each other. Villanelle places her hands on her ribcage, her fingers flitting up and down slightly before they come to rest on Eve’s hips. It’s like a dance, one that she knows exactly how to work her feet and twirl her partner to.

“What do you want, Eve?” she asks, pushing her further into the wall. Her thumb traces her bottom lip. “Do you want me to kiss you? Do you want me to dominate you? Do you want me to take all control?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then let me help you lose yourself in me.”

The kiss is nothing like she imagined it would be. Her heart aches for more, but Villanelle does not give it, staying soft and gentle. This is not like the confident and sharp-tongued woman who invited her up here, and Eve realises this is the other part of her, the one she keeps hidden, doesn’t show anyone. It shows her human side, the one bursting with emotion, and Eve can’t help but wonder if she knows she’s two people in one.

“Stop thinking,” she whispers. “You don’t need your thoughts anymore.”

So Ever lets herself feel everything -- the way her hands are unrelenting, torturing her with a slow pace, teasing sounds of pleasure from her mouth. It’s sinful to her just how easily she gave in, how quickly she was put under her spell, with no resistance whatsoever. She’s been drawn in, caught like a spider under a glass, with no means of escape.

Her hips move on their own, begging for friction, and Villanelle grins wickedly as they kiss, knowing the exact effect she’s having on the brunette. They move faster now, clothes finally making their way to the floor, leaving a trail as they move blindly to the bed. Neither of them is hesitant any longer.

Eve doesn’t pull away when Villanelle pushes her back onto the covers, climbing between her legs. Passion drives them, and the blonde places kisses from her navel down to where her underwear covers her sex, winning a small gasp when her teeth graze her inner thighs, biting. Once more her personalities are fighting, trying to reveal themselves.

She has a wicked tongue and she knows exactly how to use it. Hands in her hair, on her hips, on her thighs. Bruises will be present tomorrow, but for now they’re tasting, seeing, touching, desperate to know about every detail of each other. Their breath is short, coming in gasps, and they know they’ve crossed the line they can’t come back from no more. Villanelle listens to Eve’s moans, the ones she tries her best to suppress, the ones that sound the sweetest falling from her lips.

“Please.”

She hadn’t expected to have her begging this soon, but the plea nearly breaks her. She peels off the underwear and, with great care, pushes two fingers inside her, ears taking in all the beautiful sounds Eve makes. She decides she wants to hear more of them.

She begins to move, slowly to let her adjust, before picking up the pace. She leans forward so that she hovers above the brunette’s chest and takes one nipple into her mouth, pinching it with her teeth before she moves onto the other. Eve’s hands tangle themselves into Villanelle’s hair out of habit, hoping it will ground her in some way -- it doesn’t.

There are no thoughts left in her, gone the moment she had decided to beg, and any inhibitions are long forgotten. No tomorrow, no work, no responsibilities. She is sure the world has stopped spinning tonight. There is only now, there is only Villanelle. 

The knot in her stomach is tightening, like a spring waiting to uncoil, but the blonde keeps her waiting, keeps her wanting. It is a game to her, and she wants to win. She wants to hear more whimpers and pleas and everything else Eve is capable of saying in this moment.

“Say it,” she taunts. “Say it and you’re free. I know you want to.”

To have a voice like hers is criminal. “Make me come, Villanelle.”

“Good girl.”

The pace picks up once more and Eve doesn’t hold back anymore, letting every sound she can make leave her, floating in a state of her own bliss. She wants to be unravelled, to have no use for her mind anymore.

She’s gone in a flash. She’s beyond saving now, putty in Villanelle’s hands. Though she was the one wanting, the one begging, she can’t help but think she’s won. She pulls the other woman close to her, slowly turning her so that she’s the one sprawled on the bedsheets now.

“Eve…”

“You asked me not to think,” she murmurs, her breath hot on her neck. “Now I’m asking you the same.”

She leaves love bites down her throat, on her collarbone, on her ribs, on her stomach, down her thighs and all around her pussy. She knows exactly what she’s doing when she licks a bold stripe, listening out for that sweet intake of breath even Villanelle can’t resist taking.

It gives her the confidence she needs to keep going, keeping the blonde fixed firmly down by holding down her thighs, her mouth unrelenting, the sensation tantalising. She’s never felt anything quite like this before from any of her previous lovers, and she doesn’t know how the hell she’s going to let it be taken from her when the night does end.

She’s nearly there, she’s on the edge, so when Eve starts making circular motions on her clit she truly thinks she’s lost it, and that if any other woman were ever to touch her she’d throw them out of bed. She sees stars she’s never seen before, giving in to her ecstasy, pulling Eve close to her to hold. They’re both exhausted by this adventure and as they fall to their dreams, there is one question on both of their minds.

_What has she done to me?_

* * *

Eve woke to an empty room. A note on her folded clothes assured her that the room was paid for and if she left by noon, there was no reason to worry. She looked, of course she did, but Villanelle was gone, snuck out sometime during the early hours of the morning, and yet she could still feel her arm tightly clasped around her waist, pulling her closer into her body.

So she went to work. She made coffee for the team, she tried to hide her smiles whenever she thought about the previous night, and she wondered if they would ever meet again. Until she got her new case -- hunting her next female assassin, but she knew who it was before they even gave her a picture.

She was to hunt Villanelle.

**Author's Note:**

> [my ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/erissapphic)


End file.
